CHAPTER SIX
“How fortunate that the rain has moved on,” Cathlina said, shielding her eyes as she gazed up into the brilliant morning sky. “Father, do you suppose we will make it before the events begin?”
Astride his fat Belgian charger that was hairy to the point of distraction, Saer surveyed the sunrise as well. Clad in his battle armor, he discovered it was too tight that morning as he had put it on, resulting in a foul mood. Everything either cut into his flesh or chaffed. He thought someone had switched armor with him, not wanting to admit he had grown too fat to wear it. Regardless, he had squeezed into it and was now coming to regret that decision.
“Aye,” he said, rubbing his irritated eyes. “The morning will be spent on men dressing and preparing their weapons. We should see the mêlée by the nooning meal, and that will more than likely last until sunset.”
“Will you compete, Father?” Roxane asked.
Before Saer could reply, his wife Rosalund responded with a rude snort. “He will not,” she said firmly. “He will remain with his family where he belongs. Tournaments are for younger men, not old men who have seen better days.”
Saer mumbled a curse under his breath at his mouthy wife. As most marriages were, it had been an arranged one between him and the Lady Rosalund de Ferrers almost twenty-two years ago. It had never been a love match. Sometimes he tolerated her, sometimes he actually liked her, but more often than not he couldn’t stand to be around the abrasive and foolish woman.
Rosalund was, oddly enough, a good mother to their girls, although he secretly resented the fact that she had never produced a surviving son. The one she had given birth to when Abechail had been two years old had died within a few days. Since then, no more babies and no more heirs, and that fact had prompted Saer to act recklessly and have a son with one of the serving women. Rosalund had found out and sent the boy and his mother away. These days, Saer felt rather hollow and numb to everything, his family included. It was a sad way to exist.
“I do not expect to compete,” he said, making sure he got the last word in against the wife. “I have not done so in years and have no desire to make an easy target for younger, faster men.”
“But you have more experience, Papa,” Cathlina insisted. “You do not need to be swift when you have more experience.”
Saer turned to smile at his middle child. He did feel something for Cathlina, perhaps the only daughter he had that was worth something in his mind. Roxane was plain and demanding while Abechail would more than likely not live to see adulthood. That was what the physics said, in any case. He would feel sad when he thought about that prediction but then the numbness would swallow him up again.
The women were riding in a carriage behind him, a fine vehicle with cushioned seats and an open cab. They rarely used it, as Rosalund would only allow it to be used when she was traveling, so it was in excellent condition. Rosalund and Abechail rode in on the bench facing forward while Roxane and Cathlina sat on the bench facing backwards, but Cathlina had a difficult time remaining in her seat and was on her knees facing forward, looking over the back of the seat and down the road. She was thrilled with the trip, knowing she would see Mathias at some point. That was the only true reason she had wanted to come.
But it was a trip she almost didn’t make. For her disobedience riding to town alone, her father had threatened not to take her to the tournament but she knew he would relent. Watching the back of his bald head, she knew her father would refuse her nothing if she truly wanted it. She wondered how he was going to accept the fact that she wanted Mathias.
Saer knew she had ridden into town to deliver some treats to thank the men that saved her and Abechail from the one-eyed attacker, and the truth was that he was not in complete disagreement with her actions. He was, however, furious that she had gone alone, but he didn’t imagine why. All Cathlina would tell him was that she didn’t want to be a bother and that she could travel faster alone. He had thought it a bunch of nonsense. Any mention of Mathias had been in context with his brother, so Saer was never the wiser as to Cathlina’s true motives.
She intended to keep it that way. Regaining her seat next to Roxane, who was holding a small bronze hand mirror to check her careful hairstyle, Cathlina fussed with her clothing, hoping she looked attractive enough to garner Mathias’ attention. While her mother and elder sister were dressed in complicated surcoats and kirtles, Cathlina was dressed in a pale blue surcoat of simple design.
The snug bodice had a rather low neckline, displaying her white cleavage, while long sleeves held her arms tight and served as a showcase for her slender shoulders and graceful neck. The waistline was dropped and the skirt voluminous and belled, trailing behind her slightly as she walked. Although she had a heavy cloak should the rain and cold return, she wore a white shawl made from the finest linen that draped elegantly around her shoulders and arms, and her shiny dark hair had been pulled into an elaborate braid that cascaded over her left shoulder.
The truth was that she looked utterly divine, outshining Roxane in her complex red and yellow surcoat and a matching barbette hat, which was a round hat with a chinstrap made of delicate and soft material. Beneath it, Roxane’s frizzy brown hair had been brushed and pinned and smoothed with grease to keep it from getting out of control. It was difficult being the older, and plainer, sister and Roxane was very good at being a martyr at it. She liked to make Cathlina feel guilty for the simple fact that she had been born beautiful.
But Cathlina wasn’t thinking about her petty sister at the moment. She was thinking about Mathias and how she could slip away from the festivities to visit him at his stall. She had an excuse, of course, and that was to collect the basket she had brought the treats in, and she was positive he would be very busy today of all days. Perhaps he would only give her a few moments of his time. Perhaps he would only give her a smile and a word. Whatever he gave her, she would take it and gladly. She had thought of nothing else but Mathias for the past two days.
As she sat there and daydreamed over the tall, dark smithy, the carriage bumped down the road towards Brampton. The ground was heavily saturated from the rains that had pummeled the land for the past two days, miraculously cleared up before dawn. Even now, birds sailed against the blue expanse, searching for a meal, as the party from Kirklinton Castle kept up a clipped pace.
Saer, Beauson, and Dunstan were at the head of the group while ten men-at-arms followed the carriage, also driven by two soldiers. The road was relatively empty for the most part but as they drew closer to town, the traffic picked up. People were coming in from Carlisle to the west and points as far east as Hexham. The ladies in the carriage grew more excited as the traffic increased, straining to see all of the lords and ladies in their fine clothing. With the rains gone, it seemed that everyone wanted to be out and about. The closer they drew to town, the more it became a parade.
Entering the city limits, people were everywhere. Abechail ended up on Cathlina’s lap, both girls watching the crowds curiously. A party of nobles arrived with men in silks and a fine lady in a tall wimple walking two skinny dogs on gold leashes. They saw another fine lady with a pet rabbit in her arms, and still another with a fat white goat who rode on the horse with its master. It was all quite thrilling and Abechail began to lament the fact that she did not have a pet.
It was truly a day to see and be seen, but as the sun advanced in the sky, so did the temperature. The roads were quickly drying out and the muddy puddles all over town were starting to evaporate, but along with the evaporation came the smells of human habitation and dirty animals. When they reached the point on the avenue that seemed to be down-wind from the town’s sludge pit, a big gusty breeze blew the foul stench right across their path. Abechail put her fingers to her nose.
“The smell!” she exclaimed, looking at Cathlina. “It smells so awful!”
Cathlina agreed, putting her fingers to her nose, too. “Papa, are we almost there?”
Saer could see that they had set up the tournament field to the north side of the village where temporary lists had been constructed. Bright red banners on tall poles were snapping in the wind, announcing the location of the games and drawing people towards the area like moths to the flame. He nodded to Cathlina.
“Up ahead,” he said, pointing. “We shall be there shortly.”
Cathlina and her sisters ended up on their knees on the seats, straining to catch a glimpse of the tournament field and the banners. They entered the town from the road leading northeast, following the flow of people but veering off towards the northwest once they permeated the edge of the village. Saer wanted to circumvent the crowds that were herding towards the main entrance, taking his party through a less-crowded section of the berg and down a couple of the narrow, cramped streets.
It was mostly residential here, away from the merchants and the heart of town. It was also away from Mathias’ stall near the town square. Cathlina was no longer looking forward but gazing back, now watching the road to the town center fade from view. When it was gone completely, she sadly turned away, wondering now when she would have the opportunity to see Mathias.
As she formulated a plan, Saer took his party off of the avenue when they passed through a row of small homes and onto some open land. The sun had worked its magic and dried up the overly-wet grass and Saer called a halt and commanded that their two tents be set up. There were a few other parties around at this end of town, setting up small encampments, and Saer noticed a very big one almost immediately. He made his way over to the carriage.
“Look,” he said, pointing to a series of tents with a big crimson and gold standard flying over them. “If I am not mistaken, that is the Earl of Carlisle.”
“Cousin Tate?” Rosalund strained to catch a glimpse. “If this is true, then we must go and greet him immediately.”
Saer couldn’t disagree. He grasped her arm to steady her as she climbed from the carriage. “I should have known he would come,” he said. “This tournament is practically in his garden, it ’tis so close. I cannot recall the last time I saw the man.”
Rosalund was straightening her gown, her eyes on the encampment in the distance. “At Christmas,” she reminded her forgetful husband. “He extended an invitation for us to come to Carlisle Castle and we did.”
Saer nodded at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he said, tugging at the mail that was chaffing his armpit. “I remember now. I also remember there were quite a few children running about. He has quite a brood now, does he not?”
“Five children,” Rosalund said, distracted as she motioned her daughters out of the carriage. “Come along, my girls. We must greet Cousin Tate.”
Roxane climbed out, fussing with her hair, as Cathlina took Abechail in hand and gently helped her out. Abechail stumbled on the uneven ground but Cathlina steadied her. The gentle breeze blew her pale blue skirt about, and the white shawl waved softly against her body as she straightened out Abechail’s simple green surcoat with white ruffles around the neckline.
“You look very lovely today,” she told her little sister. “Are you excited for the games?”
Abechail nodded, curiously inspecting their surroundings. “I have never been to a tournament, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do men really try to spear each other?”
“Who told you that?”
“Rainey,” she replied, referring to their cook’s young son. “He said men drive big daggers into each other!”
Cathlina grinned. “He was also the one who told you that knights cannot see out of their visors.”
Abechail looked contrite. “Well,” she said reluctantly. “Some cannot.”
“That is not true. If they could not see, they would crash into everything and kill themselves.”
Abechail simply shrugged and averted her gaze, fussing with the sleeve of her surcoat. As far as she was concerned, Rainey knew much more than anyone else, even though Cathlina knew him to be a little boy with a big imagination. She stood there a moment, watching her little sister and thinking there was a good amount of color in her cheeks today. Usually, Abechail was so pale that to see some color in her face was unusual indeed.
The truth was that Abechail still wasn’t recovered from the near-abduction two days before. A sickly child even on the best of days, the struggle had taken something out of her. Rosalund had been fearful that it might render her weak for days but as the morning came about, Abechail had been dressed before any of them. She wasn’t going to allow a misadventure to spoil her fun. Besides, she spent most of her time in bed or resting due to her terrible health. She wasn’t going to miss today’s tournament no matter how poorly she felt.
Which wasn’t too terrible, considering. Abechail eyed her older sister, knowing that the woman was watching her closely for any signs of collapse, so it was best to put on a strong front. Taking Cathlina by the hand, she pulled her along after their mother as the woman forged a path across the soft, green meadow towards the crimson tents in the distance.
As the group of ladies drew close to the collection of tents, they noticed a fair amount of heavily armed soldiers patrolling the encampment. When one of them saw the group of women approach, he went to greet them and to discover their business. No sooner had the women come to a halt than a scream went up in the largest tent and two small blond boys suddenly charged out.
The attention shifted from the incoming visitors to the escaping children. It was evident that the soldiers on patrol knew what to do, as if fleeing toddlers were the norm in their world. The little boys separated; one ran one way and one ran the other, but the soldiers in the vicinity were on to their game and easily corralled them. As angry screaming fits ensued, a finely dressed and beautiful woman with honey-colored hair emerged from the largest tent.
“Dylan!” she scolded. “Alex! Oh, good heavens… you naughty boys!”
The children were fussing as the soldiers who had captured them took them back towards the woman. She took one toddler from a grinning soldier and went to collect the second child when she caught sight of the four women at their camp’s perimeter. After some serious squinting to try and gain a look at who they were, the woman’s face suddenly relaxed with recognition.
“Rosalund!” she called, waving a free hand. “Greetings!”
The soldier, realizing that his mistress knew the women he had detained, allowed them to proceed into camp. In spite of the fact that the mistress had two young boys screaming unhappily in her arms, she went quickly to meet them.
“Rosalund!” she greeted happily. “What in the world are you doing here? Is Saer competing today?”
Rosalund and the girls curtsied to the Lady Elizabetha Cartingdon de Lara, wife of the Earl of Carlisle. Known by the childhood nickname of Toby, Lady de Lara was a gorgeous woman with a lush figure and almond-shaped hazel eyes. She was also quite brilliant, administering the earl’s lands and making him quite wealthy. Everyone in the north knew of Lady de Lara’s business savvy and how the earl depended on her. It was also well known that he was madly, deeply in love with his wife. They had a very happy marriage, indeed.
“He is not competing, my lady,” Rosalund said. “We have come to view the spectacle. In fact, my youngest has never seen the games.”
“Is that so?” Toby turned her attention to Abechail, so tiny and frail. “Are you excited for your first tournament event, my lady?”
Abechail was a shy girl, struggling not to be in the face of Lady de Lara, whom she had met before. “Aye, my lady,” she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper.
Toby smiled, a gentle gesture even though she was still struggling with two three-year-old boys. They were putting up a fierce fight.
“Good,” she said, lowering the boys to the ground but still hanging on to their arms. “Your cousin, the earl, has chosen to compete, so it should be very exciting.”
“Where is our lord?” Rosalund wanted to know.
Toby tossed her head in the direction of the tournament arena “At the field,” she replied. “You will, of course, join us for the evening meal, will you not? I am sure my husband would like to visit with Saer.”
“We would be honored, my lady,” Rosalund replied. “My husband will be thrilled to see his cousin again.”
Toby opened her mouth to reply but one of the twins threw himself down on the dirt and began screaming. Toby hauled him up by his arm, smiling wanly at the collection of women.
“It is time for their naps,” she said. “They do not like to rest, but they need it desperately. As do I.”
“They are bright and lively boys, my lady.”
“They are devils.”
With that, she excused herself and half-dragged, half-carried the frustrated twins back towards the large crimson tent. Her departure was rather abrupt but Rosalund understood the need to deal with unruly children. She watched the countess carry the boys away before turning to her daughters.
“Now, ladies,” she said as she took Abechail’s hand. “The tournament will be much more exciting now that the earl is competing. I would say it shall be a very eventful day and now we shall have a feast to look forward to tonight.”
“Mama?” Roxane asked, smoothing her frizzy hair as it began to burst free of the confines of the hat. “Do you suppose there will be any knights or lords at Cousin Tate’s table?”
Rosalund glanced at her eldest. “There might be,” she said. “You are not, perchance, thinking on Sir Kenneth again?”
Roxane stuck her nose up in the air and looked away. “I did not say him.”
Rosalund shook her head, clucking reproachfully as she did. “Your father has told you that he is not interested.”
Roxane went into pouting mode. “Why not?” she demanded. “He is a seasoned knight and a favorite of the king. He is Cousin Tate’s closest friend. Why can’t Father approach him on my behalf? I am a cousin to the Earl of Carlisle, after all. I am an excellent marriage prospect and even though Sir Kenneth is a mere knight, I would consider him.”
Rosalund sighed heavily. “Sir Kenneth is not interested in a marriage,” she said. “Your father already approached Cousin Tate with the suggestion but Tate says Kenneth has many things to accomplish for young Edward and marriage is not agreeable to him at this time.”
Roxane’s lip stuck out. “Do you think he will be here today?”
“I do not know,” Rosalund said. “If he is, then you will not follow him around like a love-sick maid. You will behave yourself.”
Frustrated that the object of her affections since meeting him last Christmas, Sir Kenneth St. Héver, was seemingly uninterested in a romantic match, Roxane turned away from her mother and tried to pretend it didn’t bother her.
Cathlina watched her sister, feeling rather sorry for her, especially since Sir Kenneth had seemed to pay much more attention to Cathlina at the time. It had been a bitter situation and one of contention between the sisters for the months that followed. Cathlina had no desire to repeat that particular circumstance with her sister. For their sake, she hoped Sir Kenneth was far, far away.
Rosalund encouraged her daughters to get moving, taking the lead as she traipsed off the way she had come and headed towards the two smaller tents in the distance that were just starting to lift. The tents were of a non-descript color but someone planted a pole and mounted the small crimson and blue axe banner of Saer de Lara’s house.
As Rosalund moved past the subject of Kenneth St. Héver and began to comment on the feast, what they should wear, and perhaps what gifts they should bring, Cathlina’s thoughts moved to other things as well. Mostly, she was thinking on Mathias and hoping she could escape her family for a few minutes to go and see him. It would have to be a short visit and she would have to outsmart Roxane in order to get away, but she was sure it could be done. She simply had to be clever about it.
Back over their shoulders near the tournament field, a herald trumpet sounded the first of the alerts that would draw the competitors and spectators to the arena. As Rosalund hurried her girls back to their encampment, Cathlina was deciding on a plan.